


Between Yesterdays and Today

by greywing (ctrlx)



Category: Mai-Otome
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ctrlx/pseuds/greywing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shizura Viola is prepared to fight battles, but in the wake of their victory over Nagi's coup, she finds herself caught in one she's not sure she can win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Yesterdays and Today

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : SUNRISE's property. My wild imagination.  
> 

  
She didn’t think she was ready, that the timing was right, that either of them had the energy. The day had been too long. Apocalypse had come too close. The night had unfolded unending. Those dragging hours had dimmed their sense of victory, so that by twilight every eye she met had thrown back a reflection of her own shell-shocked wonder and dazed relief.

Or what would have been her wonder and relief if she could have let herself feel them. But with everything in disarray and everyone in confusion, now was the time to stand tall as pillars of order. To say words of comfort and make gestures of assurance. To be the ones who, when no one was looking, glanced over their shoulders and into the shadowy corners.

Fighting didn't end for them. The end of one battle always marked the start of another or the return to an older one. Shizuru had accepted that. But for the first time she wished that she could have asked for a respite.

She was tired.

She felt as hollow as the emptied halls of Garderobe, which were not blessedly but almost oppressively quiet after the ceaseless din of hustle and bustle. The absolute stillness buzzed as a faint ringing in her ears that susurrated thick and viscous beneath her thoughts. Even the sharp reports of her boots striking the floor seemed barely to pierce the miasma. Yet she noticed when they suddenly grew softer, unbolstered by a second set, and finally looked up.

The sight of her closed door loomed desolate. Shizuru blinked at it, while hovering off to the side, Natsuki looked at her expectantly. After a moment, Shizuru shook her head, met Natsuki’s weary but attentive eye, and wordlessly urged the both of them on, turning smartly on her heel without waiting. There was a second’s silence of hesitation before Natsuki’s steps fell back into stride beside her.

Had Natsuki seen something in her face? It was rare these days that they passed the night together in her suite. Rarer even that they spent nights apart, though they did. That Shizuru kept private quarters wasn’t simply a formality, even if there were days her quarters served as little more than a spacious walk-in closet. Rather it was privacy itself she kept there, having learned the value of it, having had public life teach her its nature. Not the way Natsuki knew it, as hiding parts of herself, but for the solitude and quiet, the sound that silence makes.

She wanted none of those things tonight. She had had weeks of days of hours of minutes with them. Tonight she wanted the ponderous click of Natsuki's antechamber door shutting behind them, of the bolt sliding into the jamb. She wanted the seeping cold of the door handle beneath her lingering hand. She wanted to hold in the cradle of her thoughts the knowledge that she could open and close the door at will, leave should she want, restrict access, give the impression she wasn't within.

She curled her fingers around the door handle until her hand went white-knuckled.

It was dark still in the room. Neither of them had reached for the light switch and the moon, stars, and city lights cast only faint illumination through the tall unshaded windows. Shizuru was grateful for it, and for the coolness of the wood against her forehead where she lay it against the door, and for the muffled plodding of Natsuki's footsteps receding from her. It gave her a moment and she took it to gather herself before lifting her head to see that Natsuki had gone halfway across the room without a glance back.

It hit Shizuru that right then she was unobserved, unguarded, unnoticed, and unnoted. Almost as if she were alone. And the sensation the thought of it gave her was so sweet that she nearly flung the door open and fled back to her room. But her eyes had fixed on the bright spots in the gloom and rooted her feet to the floor, reminding her why she was here, why she’d always come back here.

Natsuki.

She was little more than a silhouette in the dimness. Her long coat rendered her a boxy figure without curves, while the dark palette of her attire reduced her mostly to disembodied white patches of cuffs and collar. But then the collar slipped and slid and pooled under the drag of gravity and there she was, all lithe and pale-skinned torso, slender arms and cinching waist tapering into the inky darkness of her trousers, the whole of her back all but lost to sight behind a curtain of hair. This the fleshed figure Shizuru had missed so much. Had dreamt of waking and sleeping. Had spent hours reconstructing in her mind.

Shizuru closed her eyes. Behind her eyelids she saw the vision she’d nursed for weeks, that back, this person, the body she’d come to know so well with her eyes and hands and mouth. This was the form that just yesterday she'd mourned as far away and out of reach. The presence some days she’d been sure she’d lost, would lose, would forget and thus lose again.

Shizuru had not yet touched her. She wasn’t ready for this.

“Should I draw a bath?” asked Natsuki with the hush of the twilight. Yet the question was so normal, so everyday, as if they’d passed the recent weeks reviewing progress reports and assessing student performances and evaluating political rumblings and relating street gossip over cups of tea, and now they would relax and talk in softer voices, of designs buried deeper and thoughts kept closer.

Shizuru bowed her head and covered her eyes with a hand. She would not cry.

“Shizuru?”

Natsuki’s voice close by. The weight of her hand on her arm. The press of her fingers upon her sleeve. Her warmth.

Her realness.

Shizuru lowered her hand. She could not quite look at Natsuki, did not want to peer into the face she knew was drawn into lines of concern. Instead she focused on her own hand where it hovered suspended between them as if it didn't belong to her, as if it were not her reaching out for Natsuki, not her fingers alighting uncertainly on Natsuki's bare bicep. Yet she could feel the chill on Natsuki’s skin. The softness of its texture. The suggestion of the muscles beneath.

Shizuru suppressed the urge to clutch at her.

It was easier for Natsuki. In times like these, with how her feelings lurked closer to the surface and her convictions were so readily manifest, it was always easier for Natsuki. She didn’t hesitate to reach up and cover Shizuru’s hand. Anchoring her. Trapping her.

Shizuru’s gut clenched. She wasn’t ready for this. For Natsuki’s proximity, her presence. The brutal gentleness of her lips.

They moved against Shizuru’s like a timid question-- _Yes?_ \--and the tide that roared up within Shizuru answered with hunger, with force, without finesse, without control. She gripped hard on Natsuki’s arm, felt Natsuki’s lips part in a gasp, and swallowed the emerging sound. Under her onslaught Natsuki reeled back, but Shizuru followed, drawn to her, inexorable, ravenous, helpless. A hand came up hard against her shoulder.

Natsuki did not push her. Shizuru stepped away.

But she didn’t let go.

They stood breathing hard, Shizuru’s hand still on Natsuki’s arm, but with her body turned away at an angle. Shizuru stared at the floor. On her heaving collarbone lay the cautious weight of Natsuki's hand. Neither of them seemed able to move. Then the weight on her shoulder shifted, skimming first across its breadth, then up the length of Shizuru’s neck to meet her jaw and trace its long line with an ethereal quality that threatened a wafting away. It did not, but lingered indecisive upon the jut of her chin, until Natsuki swept her hand back with unfurling fingers and settled it lightly against Shizuru’s cheek.

It had been tenuous but Natsuki’s touch had laid a trail of fire across Shizuru’s skin. Shizuru breathed slow and tried not to shudder. Thus she was holding herself rigid when tentative at first, then more firmly, Natsuki drew Shizuru around to look at her. Natsuki’s eyes were intent, but gentle, concerned, but unwavering. They said nothing. In the silence Natsuki’s thumb began to move restlessly on her cheek. Shizuru closed her eyes and leaned into her caress.

She did not resist when Natsuki stepped close and slipped her arms around her. Her embrace was everything Shizuru remembered. The impression along every nerve where they touched. The hardness and the softness. The humming tension beneath her skin. The height of her and the ease with which Shizuru could press her face into the crook of Natsuki’s neck.

The smell of her.

Shizuru inhaled deeply.

“I missed you,” Natsuki whispered. Shizuru trembled. Not just because Natsuki had pressed her lips close to tickle her ear with every syllable, but because the words punched into somewhere around her solar plexus and momentarily stole her breath.

She had missed Natsuki. And feared for her. And believed her dead. A hundred times in her thoughts she’d buried and resurrected her. Said prayers to placate her fled spirit. Then prayers of supplication that it stay. And now what was Shizuru supposed to do with her prayers being answered? With Natsuki turning her head and pressing her lips to her neck right beneath her earlobe, like a master’s certification missing its mark. The contact was almost as chaste, fleeting on her skin, there and gone, then falling upon her again. Lower. Shizuru’s pulse pounded in her throat. She leaned her head back to bare it.

She’d waited. Waited and waited and waited. Waited before she’d gotten word from Natsuki. Waited after she’d gotten it. Staved off boredom and tedium. Quashed anxiety and anguish. Waged war against her mind, her body, the basest parts of herself, the willingness of the flesh.

There wasn’t enough of her neck for Natsuki to access. There never was in this dress. But Natsuki’s hands knew where to find catches and zippers even as she knew how to draw Shizuru’s attention to the pinpoint focus of her grazing teeth. Yet it was at the sound of her back zipper unteething, at the tug of her dress at her shoulders, that Shizuru’s breath hitched.

Shizuru had done what she needed to do.

Her collar loosened around her neck and Natsuki drew it down to expose her from the waist up, leaving Shizuru’s arms trapped in her sleeves. Natsuki didn’t care. The assault of her lips grew in ardency. She pressed into Shizuru, pinning her against the solidity of the door, and all Shizuru could do was brace her hands upon Natsuki’s hips. Natsuki was so _hungry_ , like a starving woman assailing a feast, and Shizuru thought dimly that _Yes, it had been longer for her, hadn’t it?_ as Natsuki‘s mouth descended upon the bend between her neck and shoulder and sucked. _Hard._

Shizuru gasped. It was dark and she didn’t want it to be dark and she was glad of the darkness and she felt bad that she was glad. What did her skin look like, she didn’t know, couldn’t remember what marks might already be there that Natsuki was adding to. But--Shizuru gripped hard on Natsuki’s hips, unsure if she wanted to draw her closer or push her away--those meant nothing, hadn’t been welcome, hadn’t come from--

“Natsuki,” Shizuru forced past the lump in her throat, just to hear herself saying it, to possess it, to have it be possessed. When she got no response, she said it again. “ _Natsuki._ ”

“Yes,” answered Natsuki breathily and found her lips with hers. Now it was Shizuru’s turn to be timid, to kiss with hesitation. Natsuki had come at her with almost bruising force, but near immediately turned tender, tongue questing lightly and seeking permission, touching against the tip of Shizuru’s with electricity.

This was Natsuki.

Shizuru pushed Natsuki back without sacrificing the contact of their lips. Natsuki backpedaled under Shizuru’s direction, familiar with this dance of eagerness and passion as Shizuru alternately steered her toward the bedroom door with steady touches and tugs and tore at her own dress sleeves to free her arms. Their kisses never stopped, only grew more urgent. By the time Shizuru bent Natsuki over the bed, her dress was at her feet and she broke away to claw at her boots. Natsuki, propped up on her elbows, watched her and laughed, a sound of such simple joy that it brought Shizuru up short, panting.

They looked at each other.

Natsuki smiled at her. Not with lust. With relief. With--Shizuru forced herself not to look away--trust.

Natsuki reached out for her. Shizuru took her hand.

They helped each other out of the rest of their clothes, settling into a slower pace, teasing and exploring with every discarded article. With kisses and nips and pinches Shizuru worshipped at the breasts that gave Natsuki such a complex. In retort Natsuki darted her fingers briefly between Shizuru’s thighs as she drew her panties away. These were things they’d done before, echoing countless other orchestrations, and it was good--because it was right--and it was right--because it was good.

Yes, Shizuru would have thought if she’d had the capacity to think. Yes.

But she was drowning in the headiness of Natsuki’s scent and she didn’t know what she wanted more. To press her mouth against the wetness between Natsuki’s legs or to feel Natsuki slide into her, slickened and reaching deep, holding her in the palm of her hand. It didn’t matter which, Shizuru thought as she pushed Natsuki beneath her and ran her hands along the cascade of Natsuki’s ribs, whether she seized or surrendered. She’d give it all, take it all, knowing Natsuki would do the same in equal amount and equal measure.

That made all the difference, Shizuru reminded herself.

Natsuki was salt on her tastebuds and tautness in her hands and a hard nub against her tongue. When she begged for release, Shizuru suckled and held off. When she shifted her hips in search of a better angle, Shizuru pressed harder. When she moaned and shuddered and shook, Shizuru lapped at her unrelenting until she keened as if on the cusp of pain.

Even then Shizuru didn’t want to stop, wanted to give her more. That, too, was all the difference.

But as if hearing her thoughts Natsuki caught her wrist before Shizuru’s hand even alighted on her thigh and pulled her up the length of her body. With her free hand Natsuki wiped at Shizuru’s mouth and then kissed her, sampling her own saltiness on Shizuru’s lips. Then in one smooth motion she rolled Shizuru onto her back and spread herself atop her lengthwise, slipping a hand between the press of their bodies to cup and knead at Shizuru’s swollen breast. Shizuru moaned appreciatively into Natsuki’s mouth and then inhaled sharply as Natsuki clamped her nipple between thumb and forefinger.

At the same time Natsuki’s right hand snaked downward along the curve of Shizuru’s waist, pressing hard against her abdomen so that Shizuru was aware of every traversed inch. Shizuru circled her arms around Natsuki in a loose embrace and strained against her languorous touch with heaving hips. Down, down Natsuki went, Shizuru spreading her legs to welcome her, and stopped, just above her clit.

Shizuru whined deep in her throat. Natsuki smiled against her lips.

Shizuru considered raking her nails across Natsuki’s back. Then Natsuki’s fingers _flicked_ and Shizuru bucked hard in surprise, curled fingers scoring across Natsuki’s shoulderblade hard enough to raise weals. Natsuki grunted but didn’t stop, fingers teasing at her entrance and withdrawing slickened to rub at her clit. Shizuru buried her face into Natsuki’s neck and bit down to stifle a cry against the sharpness of each sensation.

When Natsuki pushed into her--using one, two, three fingers--Shizuru nearly drew blood.

Natsuki planted her free hand against the mattress and levered herself up. Knowing what she intended, Shizuru relaxed her grip and shifted to let Natsuki slide a leg between hers. There was a second’s pause of preparation and anticipation, Shizuru quivering with the ache of waiting, Natsuki with the effort of exertion. Then Natsuki thrust into her with the weight of her body, thigh coming up hard against the back of her hand to drive her in deep, fingers crooking just the slightest bit in the drag and pull. Shizuru pivoted to meet her and the heat rose between them, bodies sliding and grinding as they settled into a frantic rhythm.

And Shizuru knew Natsuki was tired, that she’d put the torpor in her muscles, and that every labored motion came dredged up from some deep reserve. But Natsuki gave no sign of letting up, determination driving every movement as she sought more purchase, more leverage, moving harder and faster to the punctuations of Shizuru’s gasps.

It almost hurt and it was almost too much and it was almost not enough.

Shizuru came with a choked off sound, clutching hard at Natsuki, who held her tight and rocked her, soothingly and protectively, until they both stilled.

That she’d come made all the difference.

All the difference, Shizuru told herself in a daze of wonder as she lay in Natsuki’s arms. All the difference.

\- FIN -

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to finish this fic in time for New Year's Day, but this'll have to be close enough. This was an unusual fic for me, especially considering I haven't written any fiction in a long time. Thus it's strange that 1) I would write a fic for a series I haven't watched and 2) that it would be mostly smut. You'll have to forgive the weaknesses that these conditions lend the fic.
> 
> A thank you to [](http://jen-chan-shaw.livejournal.com/profile)[**jen_chan_shaw**](http://jen-chan-shaw.livejournal.com/) for reading a preliminary draft of this fic and offering her comments and encouragement. Let me dedicate this fic to [](http://ifuritka.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://ifuritka.livejournal.com/)**ifuritka** , who is always asking me to write more fic and somehow continues to believe I might write some. Here you go.
> 
> Songs I listened to while writing this piece:  
> "Sweet Nothing" by Calvin Harris ft. Florence Welch  
> "Bittersweet" by Ellie Goulding and Skrillex  
> "What Starry Eyes Know" [Two Door Cinema Club vs. Ellie Goulding] by Neon Hitch
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
